


Moving Heaven and Earth

by death_frisbee, im_fairly_witty



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Brief suicidal ideation, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 01:59:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/death_frisbee/pseuds/death_frisbee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_fairly_witty/pseuds/im_fairly_witty
Summary: If Hector had turned down Ernesto’s toast





	Moving Heaven and Earth

“I’m going home Ernesto. Hate me if you want, but my mind is made up.” Hector said, pulling his suitcase away from Ernesto’s grasp.

Enough was enough. Hector had only agreed to travel because he’d hoped to find inspiration for his music, wanting to be able to support his two diosas back in Santa Cecilia, but he missed Imelda, missed his little Coco so much, and Ernesto was becoming strange.

Even now, there was that darkness on Ernesto’s face. It had descended more than once just in the past week, but in a moment it was gone again, Hector’s old friend composing himself with his usual ease.

Which meant Ernesto was using his performing facade on him, something that made Hector intensely uneasy.

“Oh, I could never hate you.” Ernesto said, now smiling like they hadn’t been shouting at each other just a moment ago. “If you must go, then I’m, I’m sending you off with a toast!”

Hector watched as Ernesto turned to the small table behind him, grabbing the bottle of tequila they’d brought back to their room sometime earlier that week and a pair of shot glasses. Hector couldn’t see past Ernesto’s broad shoulders as he poured the drinks, but could guess that he was probably over-filling the glasses.  

Hector’s heart ached for his childhood friend as he hesitated in the open doorway. Ernesto was putting on a show for him, trying to mask his devastation.

Hector knew that Ernesto’s entire life was tied up in this tour, in their performing together. He felt awful for abandoning Ernesto like this, but he couldn’t live two lives anymore. It wasn’t Hector’s fault that Ernesto had never tried building a life outside of their music like he had, and Hector needed to be there for his own young family. Even if it meant leaving the stage for good.

“To our friendship.” Ernesto said, turning to offer Hector a shot glass. “I would move heaven and earth for you, mi amigo.”

Hector sighed, looking at the drink. They’d been friends for more than twenty years, did Ernesto think he had to perform for him?

“You don’t have to do this Ernesto, keep your alcohol.” Hector said, waving away the glass. The sooner he was on the train home the sooner they could both come to terms with his decision. “I’m not drinking tonight, I’ve got to get back to mi familia.”

He saw Ernesto’s eyes widen as he walked out the door, hefting his suitcase in one hand and his guitar case in the other.

A few years ago this might have been enough to guilt Hector into staying, maybe at least taking the drink, but being married to Imelda had taught him a few things about putting one’s foot down. He knew that the longer he lingered, the greater the chance of his mind being changed.

“I-, Hector!” Ernesto called, the sound of scrambling coming from inside their inn room before Ernesto came jogging out after him, with a small bag slung over his shoulder. “At least take a canteen for the road amigo, here, I filled one up just for you! Some cool, refreshing water for your journey.”

“I’m already running late for the train.” Hector called back. “Keep it for yourself, amigo, I’ll be fine!“

"Well, we’ll have to run to catch it,” Ernesto said, catching up. “trust me, you’ll be thirsty by the time we get to the station, I’ll bring it along for then.”

“You’re coming?” Hector asked, a bit of warmth growing inside him as Ernesto took his guitar case from him to carry.

“Our next performance isn’t for a couple days.” Ernesto said, “This could be the last time we see each other in a long time, the least I can do is make sure you get home safely. And make sure you stay hydrated.”

“Ernesto, that’s a whole round-trip ticket,” Hector said, touched at this show of care. “you really don’t have to, just stay here.”

This felt more like the old Ernesto he’d grown up with, not the colder, detached, even pushy one he’d found himself traveling with over the last few months.

“I insist.” Ernesto said firmly, attempting to hand Hector the canteen, but Hector waved it away, still not thirsty.

“Well, if you really want to, I guess I can’t turn down a final train ride with you amigo.” Hector said, smiling.

Ernesto smiled back as they hurried down the cobblestone road towards the train station.

Something about Ernesto’s expression was bugging Hector, but then, so had a lot of unspoken things about Ernesto recently. Not that it mattered anymore, he was finally heading back to Imelda and Coco, back to Santa Cecilia for good. It was the least he could do to take Ernesto along for the ride.

Even if he was being oddly insistent that he drink something.

***

“You’re sure you’re not thirsty?”

“I told you, the attendant already brought me something when we got on.” Hector said, his smile

definitely starting to strain. “I think I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Hector stood and walked to the back of their car, prying open the thin door that led to the small railed balcony on the back of the carriage.

They’d only been on the train for an hour, but something was definitely wrong. Ernesto’s inexplicable and increasingly desperate pestering was unlike anything Hector had ever seen, making him wonder just how much stress his departure was putting on his friend.

The cold night wind whipped by Hector’s face as he gripped the thin railing, it felt like he’d stepping into an entirely different world than the cozy and upholstered one inside the train car. He looked down over the railing to see the dark tracks flying away beneath and behind them at a deadly speed.

“The train sure is moving fast, isn’t it?”

Hector jumped, turning to see Ernesto had silently followed him out and was closing the sliding door behind him.

“That’s why I’m holding the guard rail, amigo.” Hector said, grinning despite the uneasy chill that ran down his spine, probably from the cold air whipping past him.

“You can probably let go though…” Ernesto said teasingly, walking to the rail and looking over for himself.

“Not if I want to get home in one piece I think.” Hector said, forcing a chuckle.

“I don’t think you’ve ever tried anything really daring in your life.” Ernesto said, probably in what he thought was still a teasing voice, but there was now an unfamiliar razor edge of desperation in his tone.

“Oh, really? Then who was it that fell into the arroyo because he thought that fallen tree was stable?” Hector joked, a definite note of unease threading through his own words as his grip on the railing tightened. “Definitely wasn’t that De la Cruz. Must’ve been that tonto he hangs around,”

Ernesto’s shallow smile persisted for a long moment, its very stillness hinting at an unseen but violent back and forth of the thoughts behind it. Then in an instant it is gone, flicking away as quickly as the shadows of the trees flying past either side of the train.

“Hector.” Ernesto said, his voice unsettlingly devoid of any warmth. “You cannot leave me like this. If you leave, you take everything I have with you. All my dreams, my future, all our hard work, everything.”

Hector drummed his fingers quickly on the railing, a nervous little laugh catching in his throat as he heard a tune in it. He stopped and gripped the rail tightly.

“You said you understood,” he said slowly, “Wasn’t that what you’d wanted to toast to? Our friendship?”

“A friendship that went untoasted.” Ernesto said, the temperature of his voice descending a few degrees, as if the very mention of the toast pulled something ugly into his mind.

Ernesto’s terribly thin stillness was back. Well, other than Ernesto’s grip on the railing becoming bone white.

“What am I supposed to do Hector?” Ernesto burst out, making Hector jump. Hector couldn’t help noting that for the moment it was only Ernesto’s voice that was violent, the rest of him still anchored to the railing.

“Tell me!” Ernesto cried, truly desperate anger flowing off him. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do now, as you run back to your home. Am I supposed to kick around on the streets? Am I supposed to let this go quietly? What do you want from me Hector? You’re taking it all and you don’t even care!”

Hector’s eyes were wide as Ernesto actually exploded at him. For as long as he’d known him, he’d never lost his composure like this.

“I…I just want you to understand,” Hector said evenly, adjusting his hold on the railing. “I can’t do this. You can carry on. Make a name for yourself, hate me, I don’t care. But you can’t keep me from my family, Ernesto.”

Ernesto shook his head, harder and harder as Hector talked.

“You are driving me off a ledge Hector.” he moaned, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “You know I can’t do this without you.” His eyes darting to the tracks again for a long moment.

“Leave me your songbook.” Ernesto said suddenly, sounding like he’d skipped to the end of a very stormy argument in his own head.

He looked at Hector, his voice something between a plea and a challenge. “Your songbook, that’s all I need, I can still do it if you at leave me that. Por favor, hermano, por favor. That will keep us both out of Hell. I’ll never say anything about any of this again, everything will go back to normal, you can have your family and I can have my future.”

Before Hector could think better of it he tilted his head back with a low groan and a grimace. “The songs in there aren’t for you, they aren’t for the world.”

Hector pressed his lips together tightly as he looked over Ernesto; the dangerous feeling around Ernesto seemed to have lifted at least a bit, but he was still wary of what could happen. He needed to tread carefully. “Give me a few months, and I’ll have all the songs you could need.”

Ernesto said nothing, looking like he’d just been gutted as he took a step back. All the anger had seeped away, but the darkness over him remained.

“What am I-? What did I-?” Ernesto said, putting a hand to his forehead.

He looked away from Hector, his breath becomes unsteady and then ragged, as if a pain deep inside of him was flaring up. With a jolt he stumbled back from Hector, as if dodging away from the edge of a steep cliff.

Hector stood frozen in place as Ernesto’s expression changed, but was quick to lunge forward as Ernesto stumbled, then weakly sank to the floor of the small balcony.

Hector hesitated, his hands hovering over Ernesto’s shoulders as the dry heaving gasps starting to sound more like sobs. Had he…broken Ernesto? He’d never come close to imagining anything like this happening.

Hector wrapped an arm around his friend, hoisting him up best as he could on the shaking train.

“It’s…it’s been a long day, muchacho,” Hector said after a moment. “Anyway, we shouldn’t stay out here. One of us’ll get killed if we’re not careful.”

Ernesto was glassy-eyed as Hector led him back into the compartment and back to their seats, his breath still coming hard and fast. Hector sat down, settling in for what was shaping up to be a very strange train ride home, but Ernesto remained standing, instead staring at the full water canteen resting on his own seat.

“I’m sorry.” Ernesto said hoarsely to no one, then picked up the canteen with a slightly trembling hand. “I am so, so sorry.”

He turned and walked out to the balcony again, moving to shut the door behind him.

Ernesto apologizing to…him? Maybe?

Hector scrambled up to his feet and practically threw himself out the door after Ernesto, before it closed.  
  
“Ayy, what did I say? I know I’m usually the wife in our trick, but I shouldn’t have to nag you like one,” Hector called as he followed Ernesto out, his voice tight; a strange unease inside him that he couldn’t shake.

“I’m just thirsty.” Ernesto’s voice cracked as his fingers fumbled with the canteen’s cap. He paused, looking out at the moonlit landscape rushing past them, then glanced back at Hector, but only for a moment, like the sight burned him.

Ernesto tried to say something, seemed to fail, then tried again. “When did we stop being family Hector? When did I become like this?”

Hector raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically emotional question, it almost made it sound like maybe Ernesto was drunk. But no, the closest they’d come to alcohol all day was the almost toast Hector had turned down back at the inn.

Hector took a breath as he leaned against the railing, his shoulders giving a quick shrug.

“Probably somewhere between realizing we weren’t starving anymore and here,” he said, giving a light laugh to try and cut some of the harshness from the statement. He drummed his fingers against the railing again, a nonsense rhythm coming from it as he did. “We didn’t stop being family, though. That never stops.” He gave Ernesto a wide grin. “I’d’ve picked a much cuter replacement if that were the case.”

But the joke seemed to have lost all its humor by the time it reached Ernesto, who gave the canteen’s cap another twist.

“Ah, but you did amigo.” Ernesto said, a wry ghost of a smile haunting his face. “I suppose Imelda is a "much cuter replacement” by most standards.“

The grin dropped from Hector’s face and he let out a long sigh as he looked down at the railing.

"She’s not a replacement. She’s an addition.” he said, “I have heard that families can be more than two people. It’s strange, but I think it’s true.”

“I’m not part of your family.” Ernesto said, not angrily, but urgently, as if trying to convince himself of something. He kept twisting the cap back and forth nervously, a movement that somehow was making Hector anxious too. “I’ve been keeping you away from your family, hurting all of you. I’m dangerous Hector, you said yourself that you don’t care what happens to me, I have to remove myself, before I hurt you. There’s no going back from tonight, it’s over, I’ve gone too far.”

Hector snorted before he could stop himself. “You? Dangerous? I’ve never even seen you in a real fight.”

He looked up at Ernesto, then hesitantly reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “So we fought tonight. We’ve had worse fights than this, with much worse results.” He flashed a quick smile, tilting his head a bit to make his gold tooth glint before he continued. “We don’t need to jump to any–AY!”

Hector lost his footing as the train hit a curve, nearly toppling into Ernesto before catching himself. Ernesto clutched his canteen as the unexpected lurch of the train made him stumble to his knees.

“Look, can we have this talk inside?” Hector said anxiously, looking down at him. “The last thing I want is to make an early stop.”

“Poison!” Ernesto burst out, holding up the canteen. “I’ve been trying to poison you tonight Hector! The toast, the canteen, there’s poison in them! I’m a monster, I’m unhinged, I was going to kill you and then take your songbook and you were never going to return home!”

Ernesto was gasping for breath, speaking so quickly that it seemed the words were breaking free from him. “You were never going to see Imelda and Coco again! I don’t even know who I am anymore, I was about to poison the only person in the world who actually matters to me, and for what? The dream I’d built with them.”

The canteen’s cap had disappeared. Ernesto looked Hector square in the eye, terrified resignation written on every feature.

Hector stared back down at Ernesto, his own brown eyes wide with concern as panic and terror poured out from his friend. Then, whether from nerves, disbelief, or perhaps simply willing himself to, he let out a little laugh.

“Loco, maybe. Unhinged? That’s taking it a bit far, muchacho.” Hector said.

Truth be told, this whole poison business seemed to be…well, something. It was insane to think Ernesto could do something like that after all they’ve been through, but it somehow it wasn’t quite as shocking to Hector as it really should have been.

But he didn’t want to think about that, not now. Maybe not ever. So instead he adjusted his grip on the railing and held out a hand to Ernesto to help him up.

“Come on, Ernestito. You can’t stay there the whole trip; we make too much money for that now.”

Ernesto only gazed up at Hector, as if he hadn’t heard him, but the lethal canteen he still held in his hands wasn’t moving towards his mouth. Instead, it slowly lowered, gently tapping the balcony floor. And then Ernesto let go, letting the canteen fall onto its side at Hector’s feet, sloshing out some of the deadly water with each jolt of the train.

Hector jumped as water sloshed over his shoes, then leaned down and grabbed Ernesto’s arm, doing his best to tug him back up as the train bounced and he slid over the wet planks of the balcony.

He needed to get Ernesto away from whatever was really in that canteen, and quickly.

“Allá vamos, that’s it,” he said through his teeth as he tugged at Ernesto. “I really hope you were joking about that poison, I’m sure it’d be awful to get out of our suits.”

Ernesto allowed Hector to pull him to his feet and back through the doorway. His breath coming back as Hector tugged the door shut behind them, firmly shutting the door on the whole episode.

“What, what happens now?” Ernesto asked Hector, sounding completely wrung out.

“Now…?” Hector turned to look at him now that he’d firmly locked the closed balcony door.

Maybe it was true; maybe Ernesto really had been that close to killing him for his songs. Maybe things really were that bad and Hector really had ignored that many red flags, letting Ernesto slip that far. If that was the case, a few jokes and a train ride wasn’t going to fix that. There might be nothing that could fix that.   
  
But, ay, they’d both been through enough for tonight. For now, it was best to leave it. After all, Ernesto looked like he could barely stand and breathe at the same time.

Hector steered him back over to their seats. “Now, hermano, we do what we always do after a gig.” He guided Ernesto down into his seat, then flopped down beside him. “We spend the next few hours half-asleep, complain about how much we hate trains once we’re off, and then meet in the plaza tomorrow to remind Santa Cecilia who her favorite sons are.”

Ernesto looked at Hector sitting behind him, then slowly tipped his head back against the seat to stare at the ceiling for a long moment. He closed his eyes with the vaguely pained expression he always got when he had a bad headache coming on.

“I hate trains.” Ernesto said fervently, sounding grateful as he accepting Hector’s cue.

Despite everything that had happened–or maybe because of it–Hector couldn’t help laughing at Ernesto’s comment. He sunk down in his seat and leaned against Ernesto, just as he had when they’d been kids.

“Trains are the worst,” Hector agreed as he shut his eyes. “Ay, remember the first time we hitched a ride? When we got all the way to Chavinda before they found us?”

He continued chattering, throwing himself into recounting much happier times from years ago–before the fame, before Imelda, before they’d had any other concerns besides making a name for themselves. When it had been enough to just take care of each other.   
  
Tonight would have to be dealt with eventually. Hector knew there was still something gnawing in Ernesto, not to mention the deep discomfort resting in the pit of his own stomach. But that could wait.

Hector’s family would always come first, but for now, for the first time in a long time, it was just Hector y Ernesto, hermanos first and foremost.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this one-shot fic! Believe it or not, it was accidentally written it in one go while the authors chatted over tumblr DM from very late at night to very early in the morning. We were joking about what would have happened if Hector had turned down his half of the deadly toast, when death_frisbee started writing what Hector would have said and im_fairly_whitty jumped in with Ernesto’s reactions and then it suddenly got really intense.
> 
> It was a terrifying experience as authors to not know how the other character was going to react, only being able to direct our own in the most in-character way possible. We were pretty convinced that one of them was going to to end up dead the whole time, but Hector ended up saving the day. (Barely.)


End file.
